


Save As...

by entanglednow



Series: The Fourth Wall [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-21
Updated: 2009-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Castiel misses the internet, Sam marvels at the levels of denial, and Dean finally gets hit by the clue bus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save As...

Small town libraries, Sam is not a fan of small town libraries.

Though judging by Dean's expression over a dusty red book he's not the only one that isn't enjoying their technological step backwards.

"You're the one that wanted to do the job before we picked up a new computer," Sam points out.

Dean makes a noise which doesn't mean anything, like he's perfectly aware that it's his fault but he's not prepared to change his mind now they're half way through a hunt.

Dean can take obstinacy to ridiculous levels. He pulls a book off of the shelf instead, obviously discovers it's not going to be helpful in the slightest within three pages and snaps it shut, leaving trails of dust in the air that drift towards Sam in a sinister sort of way.

"Has anything interesting _ever_ happened in this town?" he asks, he sounds honestly curious.

Sam kind of feels the same, because he's not sure they've been to a less interesting town in all their years of visiting small and not particularly interesting towns.

For non-monster hunting folk that would probably be a plus.

For them, it's just creepy.

Sam swivels his own book round and shows Dean a picture of the smiling farmer on the fifth page.

"In nineteen seventy two this man grew the fourth largest tomato in the world," he provides helpfully.

"The fourth largest?" Dean asks flatly.

"The fourth largest," Sam confirms with a nod.

"My mistake, clearly this place is a hive of activity."

Dean drops the books he was rifling through somewhere in the gloomy space under Sam's arm, leaving a cloud of previous librarians to cling to his sleeve. It makes an unpleasant 'thump,' and Sam's half expecting someone to come over and _shush_ them.

He's fairly sure that only happens in the movies. Though Dean can be pretty obnoxious so, for him, they'd probably make an exception.

Dean exhales, rough and inelegant, then frowns and glances around.

"Where's Cas?" He swivels round completely to look back up the shelves.

Sam tips his head up and looks out across the floor.

He taps Dean on the shoulder and points.

Castiel is folded over one of the library computers, curiously prodding at the mouse with the expression of someone who's confident in their ability to learn new things, even if he's obviously not exactly all the way there yet.

Dean curses under his breath and slips off across the carpet.

Sam watches him catch hold of Castiel's arm, watches him make an aborted, and humorous, effort to lift him out of the chair only to come to a stop when Castiel proves to be completely immovable.

Dean leans down, whispers something in the angel's ear that makes him drop his head, almost shamefully. He lets Dean snag his coat and drag him out of the chair.

Sam's kind of curious about that. The way Castiel has to concentrate to make himself human, to make himself soft and pliable and real. He wonders if Lucifer would be as real under the skin, or whether he'd be that obstinate marble-

-Sam abruptly finds a book on eighteenth century architecture fascinating. Until Dean gives him that 'stop learning things, we're leaving' expression that's irritated him for most of his life.

He trails after them, Castiel still protesting quietly that the internet was for public use.

"You're not public," Dean snaps.

  
~~~~

  
They stop for gas and Dean questions one of the men by the side of the road, he looks old enough to have settled the damn town and Dean's half tempted to throw holy water on him. But after a few minutes conversation he's fairly sure it's because the guy's been sat there pretty much his whole life, absorbing sunlight and dust from the road and losing all the moisture in his body.

Good job too, Dean decides, because mummies are nasty fuckers.

He doesn't know anything about their dubious missing person case either, so Dean ambles his way back to the car.

Sam's drifted inside, he's waiting by the door with an expression of amused frustration, usually Dean's the one responsible for that.

"Where's Cas?" Dean asks, and that's a question he seems to be asking a lot today. The damn angel can't stay still for five minutes, and if he's abandoned them to stalk some internet cafe, they're going to have 'that conversation.'

But Sam tips his head inside, up the aisle-

\- and there's the angel, seemingly spellbound by the many varieties of candy.

"I told him he could have one," Sam tells him. Which is an explanation but it doesn't entirely help.

"How long's he been there?" Dean asks.

Sam checks his watch.

"Ten minutes."

Dean rolls his eyes and heads inside and down the aisle.

"Sam says you're supposed to be picking something."

The angel looks up at him, then turns back to the candy.

"I'm not certain what I like as yet," Castiel says seriously, like making the wrong choice will be catastrophic, possibly for all of mankind. And Dean always thought Sam was the drama queen.

Dean reaches out and picks six at random, then grabs Castiel's wrist and drags him in the direction of the register.

"Sam said I was allowed one," Castiel protests.

"I'm making an executive decision or you'll be here all day."

Dean pays and then gestures, in a 'there it's your candy, you deal with it' sort of way.

Castiel discovers the secret awesomeness of having pockets.

It's a good day for him, clearly.

Sam rolls his eyes when they finally get outside, slides into the car and waits there, leg jiggling slightly in the sunlight.

Twenty seconds after Dean's started the car there's the faint crinkling sound of a wrapper being opened and Dean thinks maybe that's the angel sorted out for the afternoon.

"This has nuts inside," Castiel says, and Dean's not entirely sure if that's surprise or disapproval.

Though something crunches a moment later, so if it was a surprise then at least it was a _good_ one.

Sam unfolds the map across his lap.

"So, apparently there's an older part of town." Sam pokes at a crease that Dean can't see.

"The internet would be helpful in this matter-" Castiel starts.

"No," Dean tells him. Because they're doing one job, one, without the damned internet. "We finish the job then we buy a new computer."

Castiel doesn't say anything else.

Dean checks his expression in the mirror.

He's looking at the back of Dean's head, forehead creased, mouth ever so slightly pushed out.

Dean thinks he's sulking.

God damn it.

Sam waits until he's stopped muttering under his breath about angels and their obsessiveness before he tips the map sideways.

"So we could start at the edge of town, apparently this house here is one of the original buildings so there's a good chance-" Sam stops and lays the photocopies he'd made over the top. "No hang on, I think I've gotten that wrong...."

"What?"

Sam shakes his head, but doesn't offer anything else because apparently his brain is working.

"I do _not_ like this," Castiel proclaims suddenly, like one of his candy bars has surprised and offended him. Dean flicks his eyes up at the mirror and finds Castiel staring at two thirds of a bar like he doesn't have a clue what to do with it.

Dean holds a hand over the top of the seat and after a pause Castiel gives it to him.

He demolishes it in three bites and tosses the wrapper somewhere over his head.

Sam's staring at him.

"What?" he demands with his mouth full.

"Nothing," his brother says carefully. "Absolutely nothing." Then very carefully goes back to looking at the map muttering something about his 'obliviousness being a mental defect.'

Jesus, it's going to be a long day.

  
~~~

  
The day, it turns out, is not only long, but a complete waste of time.

Three hours in the archives of the hospital tells them that they're chasing dead ends and the missing people are probably not connected to the town at all. Or at least not connected in the sort of way they need to be there for.

Dean ends up giving their best guess at monster-of-the-week a ride home when it turns out he's just an over-protective father rather than a flesh-eating monster, and that's just embarrassing.

 _Embarrassing_.

The motel room, at least, smells like home when he opens the door.

He throws his coat and keys on the table and steals a piece of pizza from Sam on his way past.

"Cas doesn't like the pizza," Sam tells him, in an apologetic sort of way, he's sprawled out on his bed, taking up a truly ridiculous amount of space with his giantastic limbs.

"Shame on you, Cas," Dean tells him seriously, and Castiel looks appropriately confused where he's sat, almost primly, against the headboard of their bed- the other bed. Dean kicks his boots off and sprawls out next to him.

Castiel's already doing the squashy human thing so he's easy enough to shove over a little bit. Sam's coaxed him out of his coat and jacket, though he's left him, bewilderingly, in his shoes. Dean's honestly curious to know how that conversation went.

But he's half-warm through his shirt so clearly he's been there for a while.

He steals the other pizza box, not sorry in the slightest that he doesn't have to share with the angel, who's turning out to be a bottomless pit if they don't pay attention to what he's actually ordering.

"What are we watching?"

"Die Hard," Sam offers around pizza, almost an entire slice, and it occurs to Dean that maybe they're not the best people to be teaching Castiel the appropriate way to eat in company.

"So where are we going next?"

"I don't know, I'll check out the papers tomorrow, see if I can catch something, maybe phone Bobby and ask if he can point us anywhere."

"If we had a computer you could find out much more quickly," Castiel points out. In what he clearly thinks is his sensible and helpful voice.

Dean glares at his ear.

"Dude, go and buy a computer with Sam, I don't care."

Castiel turns his head and Dean feels his softly apologetic exhale against his face.

"I didn't mean to upset you, I was simply pointing out that your circumstance are such that internet access is useful."

Dean looks away, disguises his irritation with pizza.

"You didn't upset me," he says with his mouth full. "I'm just tired of you two pining. Though why Sam's missing the continuing adventures of Lucifer riding his ass, and I _absolutely_ mean that literally, I have no idea."

Dean's fully prepared for the pillow to smack him in the face.

Castiel, not so much.

"Sorry, Cas," Sam says stiffly.

Dean throws it back, hears the soft thump of Sam catching it.

"Or maybe you could just ask your boyfriend next time you see him where he's planning to turn the rivers to blood next."

"Dude, you're asking to be wearing this pizza."

Dean's not afraid, Sam wouldn't waste pizza, he has more respect for the delicious toppings.

"I don't understand," Castiel says quietly, and for a minute Dean thinks he's talking about the pizza, but Castiel's watching the TV.

"He's trying to get his attention, he did that on purpose, to get the police to the building," Sam offers.

Castiel nods, like he understands perfectly now.

Dean thinks, hell, maybe TV is educational, Castiel is learning how to stop a terrorist attack on a high rise building.

He falls asleep before Bruce Willis gets to the roof.

He vaguely remembers Cas moving at some point, shifting his warmth away and leaving Dean briefly against the cold of the sheets. He thinks he mumbled something that made the angel stay for a little while longer.

The next thing he knows-

-something hits him in the face.

He swears and flails his way upright, blinks in the vicious morning brightness of the room.

Sam's glaring at him from four feet away, and there's cold material on his chest. Dean realises, belatedly, that it was his own jeans that smacked him awake.

"Jesus, Sam, how about a little freakin' compassion."

"Dude, seriously, get up," Sam says fiercely. "You said you wanted to leave at seven." The blurry outline of Sam drags the bag off of the table and carries it out to the car.

Dean flips him off and face-plants back into the pillow.

Which smells like Castiel.

Which is weird but kind of understandable since he was here most of the night watching Dean eat pizza and Bruce Willis save the world. Though Dean should probably apologise at some point for falling asleep on him.

And, yeah, Sam's going to hold that over him forever, but he probably deserves it for all the Lucifer sex jokes he's been making.

It's not like it was weird or anything.

It's not like the angel was rolling around naked in his bed.

...

Inappropriate erection, he tells his body firmly.

 _Inappropriate god damn erection._


End file.
